Showing posts from May, 2015

Home is...where the f*CK is home??

The concept of “home” is a funny thing. There are all kinds of cheesey phrases, “Home is where the heart is”, “Home is where your story begins”… you know them all.

Right now, I struggle to define home.
Home is a condo in one of the towns named after a Saint in Quebec (of which there are thousands) where I live with my…inherited dog (that I am embarrassed to admit how much I love).

Home is a messy, noisy, funny, condo with two girls that I love to the end of earth but don’t always know how to deal with, a husband that I see 25% of the time, and that same dog.

Home is a chair at a desk in a big building in the biggest city that I have, or ever will (I think) live in. I spend 75% of my time there, it holds my only friends in Quebec, and it’s where I have the most social interaction.

Home is my signature on a mortgage on a condo in Edmonton, of which I never plan or intend to live in, ever, just touch down for a visit from time to time.

Home is the basement of my cousin’s house in Edmonton, w…

Spreeengh Rafteeeng

If I haven’t already written about it, I’m a Groupon junkie. I totally fall into the “Save 55%!”, or “SAVE 94%!” and think about a huge deal I’m missing out on if I don’t get it. So I buy them. A lot of them. Let’s just say they have their own line in my monthly budget. I’ve wanted to find a Groupon for Aventures Quatres Saisons (Four Seasons Adventures) for some time but have always backed out. They had dog-sledding, skiing…a million other interesting things, but I’ve always been too late after trying to make up my mind if I’ll go alone. Finally, I decided that this May long weekend, I was going to buy a “spring rafting” Groupon. Now, before we go any further, it has to be mentioned that we’re in Quebec and I’m speaking French, so it’s not “spring rafting” as you would say it, it’s “Sprreeeengh rafffteengh” with a French accent. So I called and booked my time for Spreeeegghn Rafteeeng (further known as “spring rafting”) and was all excited for it. I knew that I’d freeze my ass of on …

Montreal-girl in the making (or woman. Whatever).

Could it be that I’m turning into a Montreal girl? Now, there’s something to be said for being on a road with minimal traffic listing to Rascal Flatts (yes, I’m serious), but my days here don’t seem to be so foreign anymore.
Sure I notice that not many people look like me, I have an accent different to anyone else, I still have my “I hate Quebec” moments (I’m pretty sure Quebecers have, “I hate Quebec” moments), but…my days are almost starting to feel….normal.
This morning I was dead tired, but I got up, did my hairz and fancy makeup, wore my fancy jeans (it’s jeans day to support xyz cause), got on the train, even freaking brought an umbrella (I walk 1.5km from the train station to work and it’s raining) and picked up a coffee on my way to the office. None of it felt weird. There are a few points on my route to work that are even habitual:
1.Saying hello to the guy that hands out the free newspaper. There are 2 free newspapers in Montreal, and although I prefer not to get either to sa…

Early night out

The first couple of months I was at my new job, I heard about the "5 à 7" after work drink events...but I was yet to be invited. 
Maybe in December, I got my first invite...but I was pretty nervous. People I didn't know, language I didn't know, scenario I didn't know. I showed up, had two drinks, ordered a cheese plate for supper and caught the 830pm train home. Feeling somewhat accomished...but not really like I enjoyed myself a ton.

Tonight marks my THIRD 5 à 7, where I drank (responsibly), danced (irresponsibly), socialized, and had a kick ass good time.

I'm now on the 11pm train home. I could have stayed out much later, I could have partied all night...but I'm freaking tired. Like really tired after a week of not fantastic sleep. It feels like every week in the six week rotation brings on a new set of challenges, this week: loneliness. Missing Louis and the girls like crazy....not really wanting to sleep in my bed...and living in a house that looks like …

Are you still out there? Here goes nothing.

Alright. So a long time ago, I wrote a blog. This blog. I prided myself on my posts, I used it as a therapy, I used it to vent, I used it to channel some kind of creativity. I was young, naïve, unknowing of the world, hopeful, and bright.
Fast forward more than five years later. I’m still young (ish). (That stupid thing on Facebook photos guessed my age at 24 without makeup. But 36 with makeup. Whatever).
I’m less naïve but certainly still gullible. I’m more hopeful than ever but have some skepticism to put aside, and bright?? Well, my bright is starting to shine again, after a long winter of depression…or depressing winter…I can’t keep it straight, it needs some polishing.
So here I am, in Quebec, CANADA, the country I was born and raised in…but EVERYONE IS DIFFERENT. They don’t look like me. They don’t act like me. They certainly don’t talk like me and at first I could  BARELY understand them. I try to listen to the local radio…and I sort of understand sort of what is being said. All …